


I Watch You On The Red Horizon (Cherry Wine)

by ashrose98



Series: I Watch You On The Red Horizon [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: #basically harry moves in with louis, M/M, and they fall in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 23:09:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5024215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashrose98/pseuds/ashrose98
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What was normally a usual morning routine has changed, drastically. From peering into the living room to find Harry nestled within blankets and pillows, to finding a cup of coffee and a plate of breakfast on the kitchen table, to actually being able to smell something other than nicotine and alcohol (it now smells like faint cologne and lilacs). Breakfast plates range from omelets to a green thing that I discovered was kale after saying, 'what the fuck is this'. I think Harry was amused, he was chuckling under his breath.</p>
<p>or</p>
<p>	Summary: It's a new home. A new life. A chance to change. A chance to fall in love.<br/>(Harry thinks falling sounds nice, Louis isn't so sure.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sometimes I Sit and Think

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry wears a lilac shirt, and Louis is bare chested, covered only in his ink covered skin. They may or may not be totally in love already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovelies: Please be aware that this contains past abuse and drinking, and if abuse is triggering to you, please please don't read this unless you are sure you want to. I love you all so much. xx

 

My eyes follow the flashing city lights, the movements of people are so slow that Zayn's driving barely allows me enough time to see anyone move more than a foot in any direction. He drives so fast. I sigh, and turn to look over at him, noticing the single strand of hair that dangles in front of his face. It doesn't take long for him to brush it out of his face, slightly grimacing at the very small distraction that it is. Perfectionist. And so vain. It never takes Zayn long to notice when something about himself is out of place. Very self-aware. One thing that we have in common. I bite my lip absentmindedly, my mind taking the roads that I want to avoid. 

"Harry, I know you're worried and all that.. To be honest with you, Louis, he won't be like.. He won't be like Jayden. I swear. Like Louis gets drunk some nights, but he won't hurt you."

"I don't want to think about Jayden." My voice trembles as I breathe out his name. When I close my eyes tightly I still see black and blue. 

"Of course, mate. Sorry." He pauses, obviously feeling out of his center. He murmurs softly, "I just hope you don't mind the smell of nicotine and alcohol."

"I've had worse." I reply quickly, perhaps coming off too harsh. 

He shakes his head, and I can feel the pity radiating off of him. I don't want his pity. I just wish I hadn't been so naive when I was with Jayden. Unable to tell the difference between love and abuse. Always too willing to forgive him when he cried apologizing, and buying me sweet smelling flowers, among other things that I thought were nice. Silly little boy all too happy to be loved, or at least to fall into what he thought was love.

"Do I look presentable enough?" I ask quietly, looking back out the window, so he wouldn't be able to read my emotions written on my face. I finger my long sleeved hoodie that Zayn let me have, a lilac colour that I didn't exactly like, and I didn't exactly dislike it either. Pulling the sleeve over my hands I question what will Louis will be like. Will he get drunk and hit me? Will he get mad at me for having friends? Will he get mad at me for fucking things up, which seems to be the only thing I'm good at.. I exhale heavily. I adjust the white and pink floral headscarf on my head, patting down my curls which only bounce back to their original spot with vigor.

"Of course, Harry. You look drop dead attractive. And so cute! You have the cutest curls and you blush so cute, and your dimples make a man weak in the knees." Zayn's high pitched energetic voice draws me out of myself, and I shake my head at his ridiculousness. 

"Too much information, Zayn." I deadpan, eyes focused on Zayn, he smirks as he stares ahead at the road, headlights leading the way, cutting through the dark.

"Oh, but I'm telling the truth! You're too modest." He chuckles and lightly smacks my arm.

I shake my head, not knowing what to say. I'm not used to this: being allowed to talk. Encouraged even..

"We're here!" Zayn looks over at me, smiling wide, the wild strand of hair once again dangling in front of his face. Setting the car in park and turning off the engine, he frowns suddenly and says, "Don't be so nervous." He chuckles, and when I have no reaction, not even a fake smile, his eyes darken. "Harry, seriously, you have nothing to worry about.."

I shake my head quickly, "I have many things to worry about." My voice monotone and he opens his mouth to respond, but then shuts it as he doesn't know what to say. I shrug. "Well let's go."

He nods his head, getting out of the car, and makes his way to the door, periodically waiting for me to catch up with his lengthy stride. I step out onto the sidewalk, glancing at the building that lays before me. Chipped white paint on wood panels, small windows with shabby curtains that don't do their job, a front door that seems somewhat unwelcoming. Ha, as if a door has a harsh attitude. Little solar lights line the sidewalk that threatens to crumble, weeds grow passing as plants between cracks. My new home. Zayn knocking on the door brings me away from my thoughts, and I scamper to his side. I huff in nervous anticipation, a cloud of mist escaping from my lips. 

The door opens, and light pours out, along with electronic music playing in the background, and the stranger stands before me suddenly: it's too much. Shit. I try to smile but I'm overwhelmed by his appearance. He's so messy looking. But hot. My nerves are exploding in my veins. Brown fringe all messed up and sticking up awkwardly, like he just ripped off a hat, and nearly resembling a hedgehog. Blue eyes peering at me intently, his hands in his ripped up plaid pj pockets. Even his socks have holes in them, I notice while looking down awkwardly. And when I notice his bare chest, it is hard to seem like I'm not completely and utterly affected by it. He is so fit. His thin lips are pursed tight, in worry I can only assume. Focus Harry, keep your shit together. I blink rapidly, my cheeks warming slightly, and I stare at his eyes.

Then the smell of nicotine and alcohol hits my nose, and it only gets stronger when I finally step inside. I don't know what to say, I don't know how to act. I dip my head furtively, looking out of the right corner of my eye, and saying hello in the tiniest manner possible. I can't gauge his reaction but how I can feel the awkwardness of Zayn's energy rolling into me like crashing waves, I know this isn't what anyone was expecting. 

What were they even expecting anyways? A friendly hug, and a pat on the back for good measure? No. Absolutely not. I shift closer to Zayn, casting wary glances towards Louis. He runs his fingers through his hair, managing to flatten bits and pieces of it. But, for whatever reason he still resembles a hedgehog. 

But all I can think about is how Jayden had a more muscular build, and how his blue eyes haunted me in nightmares as he stood above me, belt in hand, whiskey in the other. But this stranger, Louis, I have to stop seeing Jayden within him. Blue is just an eye colour, not the colour of Jayden's abuse. I breathe in slowly to compose my shaking hands, to find a center in the hurricane of emotions. 

I guess I'll just be waiting for the storm to end.


	2. Perfect (For Me)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introductions/ Love/ Coffee Mugs

I couldn't believe my eyes. 

He was so beautiful, not in the sense that he was a male model, though it's quite possible he could be -- but beautiful in the every sense of the word. Beautiful with his soft chocolate brown hair that fell down in luscious curly locks. Beautiful with emerald eyes wide, eyelashes batting gently and slowly as he looked me over, capturing every detail. 

But for all this beauty he is standing shy and timid. Shaking even though it has got to be the warmest night in October. The light pouring out from the open front door highlights his eyes, and the contrast of his face, all sharp edges, and soft features. He has his hands folded behind his back, the complete textbook on insecure body language written on this beautiful, nervous boy. 

I couldn't figure out why my heart was beating so fast, so loudly in my ears. I didn't know someone could fall in love so quickly. But I read once it can happen as quickly as you blink, as quickly as champagne pops open. So, maybe, it is possible. 

Especially possible when a boy like him, with soft curves, and gentle face, looks at you. Somehow the lilac shirt manages to bring the colour of his green eyes to life.

Zayn does nothing more than shrug and give me a sheepish look. Can he not see how beautiful this boy is? How impossibly broken but still here, standing in front of me..

Zayn smiles fondly at the boy, and ruffles his soft hair, dislodging the curls so they flicker like waves in a creek over his headband. His eyelids are laded down, and his eyes are worrisome as he glances up at me occasionally.

"H-Harry. My name is Harry.." He dips his head, he flicks his emerald green eyes up to me, traveling up my body, from my dirty, torn socks to my sagging, ripped pajama pants, to my bare chest inked in black.

"Hi Harry, names Louis.." My voice trails off, realizing how stupid I must look to him right now. A bloody stammering mess. "You know what? I'm gonna just go get a.. shirt on. Zayn, you clear off that couch, he can sleep there for tonight." I turn around, intent on getting away from him, from Harry, who has somehow fucked up my life within 5 minutes, in the best possible way perhaps, making me feel confusion at wanting to protect him from everything, but also unsure of my role in being a.. a.. nice person. Shit, I think I need a doctor. A counselor. A drink, or three.

He fluffs Harry's hair once more before clearing the couch of over-sized pillows, mismatched blankets, and various articles of clothing. Harry silently clears the coffee table of empty bottles of beer, mugs, leftover food and pizza boxes. I stand at the door frame watching as he moves, gracefully, languid, lightly. Not even making a sound as he places the bottles beside the kitchen sink, and throwing away the boxes of decaying food. 

Finally graced in a over-sized red jumper I make my way back from my bedroom, surprised that I can actually see the floor, and my coffee table, and my couch doesn't like a tornado shit on it. Wow.

And he's sitting peacefully on my couch- our couch now, I guess. He has a mint green blanket draped over his shoulders (I didn't even know I owned that blanket), and he subtly glances over at me, fear almost a permanent colour in his eyes. 

"Good, it looks like you've made yourself at home." I smile gently at him, unsure if I should sit beside him or sit on the chair. But when Zayn sits down on the chair I realize with a sick feeling crawling through my gut that the only place left is next to him. I swallow heavily, doubt making my movements jerky and uncoordinated as I sit down. What do I say? I should say sorry that his ex was so horrible? Do I even admit that I know? Should I show him the house? Should I just ask him to play video games with me for fun?

"Is.. there anything you'd like?" Harry murmurs softly, looking at me with glossy green eyes.

"I'm fine. You want some tea or something? Or you want a good fuckin' bottle of wine? I've got some." He flinches. I bite the inside of cheek. Apparently cursing is a bad thing.. Shit.

"Oh, um.." His voice shakes with nerves, "I can make tea, for all of us." He stands up, the blanket falling onto the couch, covering a stain from one of my late night drinking bouts. I really need to get a life. And stop drinking.

"Here, let me help you." I stand up a bit too rushed and he looks at me, wide eyes unblinking, he shrinks into himself, becoming paler in the cheeks than he was just a few moments before.

"No, no, please, I can do it. Please let me do it. I want to make you happy." He's pleading, his voice so weak, so fragile, like glass that could slip through my hands.

"Harry, you don't know where I keep my tea, and cups, and everything else. Let me show you." I press gently, stepping forward.

"Oh, right. Thanks." He stutters, digging his nails into his palms, obviously beating himself over a very small mistake. I wonder what his ex was like... Did they really expect him to get them everything without showing him where it was? Did they get mad when he wasn't quick enough to please them? I bite my lip.

"Mhmm." I turn to him quickly, "And Harry?"

He blinks and raises his eyebrows at me as he look over.

"Sorry I'm a twat."

"Not all the time." He murmurs softly, and smiles at me.

~~~

"Thanks, Louis. For everything. I mean it." Harry glances at me out of the corner of his eye, still too shy to look directly at me. A blush colours his cheeks, and he walks slowly beside me. He sips slowly from his mug: pale pink with white polka dots on it.

"It's no problem. I wanna treat you the way you deserve to be." I notice a small, timid smile painted on his rose coloured lips, and I smile. 

He sits down on the couch, turning slightly to pat the pillow, and fluffs it slightly to his satisfaction.

"Once I clear out my spare room you can sleep there. This is the best I can manage, I'm sorry. I," I cough awkwardly, "wasn't expecting you. I hope you can understand." I don't know if I was apologizing for the lack of his own space, or for my lack of social abilities. Is this really the best that I can do?

He turns to me, his eyes so wide, so unblinking, that it begins to unnerve me. "Of course, Louis. This is nice, thank you." He dips his head, and I don't doubt for a second that he is being sincere to me. 

I hope I prove myself to him. Maybe prove myself wrong too in the process.

~~~

Its three weeks later and what was normally a usual morning routine has changed, drastically. (It's hard to grasp sometimes) From peering into the living room to find Harry nestled within blankets and pillows, to finding a cup of coffee and a plate of breakfast on the kitchen table, to actually being able to smell something other than nicotine and alcohol (it now smells like faint cologne and lilacs). Breakfast plates range from omelets to a green thing that I discovered was kale after saying, 'what the fuck is this'. I think Harry was amused, he was chuckling under his breath. 

But that doesn't mean I don't like it. I think I'm starting to like mornings, and maybe even Monday mornings. Maybe. I'm not sure yet.

"Hey, Harry? Would you like to go to the store with me? I need to get some stuff." I tilt my head to look in his direction where he is sitting on the edge of the couch, fingering his headscarf, twisting the fabric, rubbing his fingers against it. As I wait I pick up the list from the kitchen counter.

"No, thank you," He mumbles politely, refusing to meet my expectant gaze. 

"Hm? Are you ok?" I make my way over to him slowly, and kneel beside the couch, struggling to make eye contact with him as he keeps finding reasons to glance away- creaking floorboards, the hum of the air conditioner, a bird singing outside the window.

"Yes, I am perfectly fine, thank you." He suddenly looks at me, his green eyes glossy, and then they flick away quickly.

"If you say so.. I'll be back in about an hour." I get up, using the edge of the couch as a support as I hoist myself up slowly. 

The only response I get is a quick nod, and Harry's eyes travel away from me, peering at the empty wall across from him. I don't blame him for this reaction, he just has to get comfortable. He has to learn to not expect punches and hits and yelling insults. Eventually he will, hopefully he will learn, just like I learned. I trudge to the front door, jingling my keys absentmindedly before I close the door behind me, the list firmly in hand.

~~~

"Harry, I'm back." Nearly out of breathe I shove the door open with my shoulder, thinking that I should have taken two trips because I think my spine is going to be permanently damaged- from grocery bags. How pathetic. 

The only thing I hear is silence. 

"Harry?" I call out again my voice hoarse with worry.

"Harry?" I mutter softly, lifting up the blankets that are crumpled on top of the couch. And there he is. Curled up, teardrops clinging to his eyelashes and running down his cheeks silently. He stirs quietly as he opens his eyes slowly, staring up at me with wide, pathetic green eyes.

"What's wrong, Harry?" I kneel beside the couch, and he puts his large hands over his face, pressing down his hair, covering everything but his running nose and slightly parted lips.

He sniffles but doesn't remove his hands as he whimpers softly, "I broke a cup. I broke your favorite mug." He inhales and exhales heavily, quickly, nearly hyperventilating. "You let me into your house, you treat me nicely, give me a couch to sleep on, give me food to eat and water, and you don't hurt me, and this is how I repay you? By breaking your things?" His hands are now clenching his hair, tugging at it in his utter shame.

"Harry.." I whisper sigh and place my hands on top of his, and pull them away slowly, revealing wide eyes that blink tears away. "I can always buy another mug, I get them at thrift shops, they barely cost me anything." I smile kindly, pressing my elbows in to the couch I rest my head in my hands. 

"You're not mad?" His eyes fill with liquid hope as he stares at me.

"No, of course not. I'm not mad at all."

He smiles, timid, worried. He flinches, and his hand is drawn down to his right foot, where blots of blood are soaking through the thin fabric of his socks. 

"Oh, Harry, you're hurt.." I murmur soft, and gently peel off the sock, inspecting the cut. I can see the shimmer of glass that's trapped within his skin- it shouldn't be to hard to remove.

"Come on," I pick him up, holding him close to my chest. First aid kit, I check the shelving unit, and find it tucked away on the second shelf. I set Harry down, and he sits on sink counter, the tips of his toes touching the floor (god he is tall). I grab a band aid, disinfectant, and begin to wash off his foot with a warm wet rag. Once I am done with disinfecting the cut I remove the sliver of glass, and blot the cut with the rag. 

"Thank you, Lou."

"No problem. Now, just wait a moment, I'm almost done."

Placing the band aid on his skin I chuckle softly realizing I gave him an Iron man band aid- my favorite. I suppose that is what love is like- that you don't care if you give them your favorite band aid, even if it is the last one, because you want to heal their wounds with pieces of you. 

"Can I help you pick out mugs next time?" He smiles small, timid, hopeful. 

"Of course, Harry." 

"Thank you, Louis." He wraps his arms around my neck, warm breaths against my skin as he draws me closer. His arms are so tight around me, like I'm his safety place and he doesn't want to leave, and it makes me feel like perhaps- just perhaps, I'm not such a bad person after all.


	3. I'd Fly To You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laughter / Puzzles / And Crumbs of Hope /

I'm sitting content, the lights are low, and The Fray is playing through my iPod speakers. And he's asleep, on me.

His steady breathing is calming, and I exhale heavily, completely content and relaxed. And I know that isn't a good sign. It isn't a good sign at all. 

I'm falling in love.

It has taken two months to convince Harry that he didn't need to clean up, or insistently ask me if I need anything- a massage, some more tea. Though he insisted on at least cleaning up our tea cups if he wasn't allowed to do anything else. And he refilled mine. With Red Rose. I don't know why he decided on that specific tea, but it's my favorite. Maybe it's because he gave it to me, smiling, a slight blush on his cheeks as he said, "Here's a hot tea, cos that's what you are, a hottie." I couldn't resist the urge to laugh, and for the first time in ages, it was a real laugh, coming right from my stomach, loud and powerful. 

He begins to stir against my left side, the blanket clinging to his body in a last ditch effort to stay. I rub my thumb in a small circle on his right arm as his eyelids slowly flicker open. He tilts his head backwards to gaze at me, plump lips parted, and eyes gleaming in curiosity. 

“You’re awake, um sorry. Did I wake you?” I mutter softly, feeling my body stiffen at his sleep laden eyes staring at me, soft, relaxed, observant. Beautiful.

“Erm, no. I just felt you touching me as I was waking up and wondered if you wanted anything. Do you need some more tea, Louis?"

"God no, Harry. I’ve enough tea, thanks. I don’t want anything." I give him a reassuring smile. 

"Harry, erm," I cough, "I think I'm in love." I glance over at Harry, my face and voice equally hesitant.

"Really? With who?"

"Just somebody." I shrug, biting back the rest of the words on the tip of my tongue.

~

Harry wants to push farther. And he has a feeling of what Louis was about to say, and it makes his stomach ache, and flutter, unlike anything he has ever experienced before. He wants Louis to open up to him. But he's just being hypocritical now, because he hasn't opened up about his past. But maybe he has? The line isn't very defined. This whole relationship isn't defined.

And it nearly was defined. 

But nearly isn't good enough.

So Harry simply nods his head, and looks away shyly.

Damn it. No. He can't be falling in love with Louis. 

He gets up, the blanket falling to the ground, a soft whoosh as the air deflates and escapes. He wishes he could deflate just like that- snap and be gone. He wishes he could be invisible. 

~

"Harry.." Louis mumbles gently, expecting him to keep walking away, confused as he tries to find somewhere to hide, since the couch was practically his bedroom. 

Harry does his best to ignore Louis' voice, but he turns around anyways, facing Louis. That's when his heart drops, and melts, and explodes, all simultaneously. Because that beautiful, soft, caring gaze that Louis is giving him, along with his little hand patting the couch, the blanket in his other hand- it's enough to make Harry go onto his knees.

"Please, I'm sorry I just stopped talking but sometimes my tongue just gets a mind of its own and it will just keep talking and talking and talking, just saying all these random things that shouldn't be coming out of my mouth at all. Like private thoughts. Personal ones. And they all slip out of my mouth. I think it's from my habit of drinking too much or it might be because I'm in love with you. Shit. Shit. This is why I don't talk. I'm sorry, Harry, I'm sorry." His face burns red, eyes shut tight, hands now glued to his face. "You're supposed to just live with me and like be safe from him and I love you. I'm sorry."

I walk over in a few quiet steps and grasp his rough-skinned hands with my soft ones and pull them gently away from his face.

"Don't hide... It's ok." I swallow heavily and push aside my doubt and mumble softly, hoping secretly that he won't hear me but the room is so silent, so still, until I say, "I think I'm in love with you too." I blush, and he blinks quickly. His eyes the colour of the ocean, but soft, and gentle, like the waves lapping at the shoreline, desperate for another taste of land. Oh god, I want to kiss him.

Harry leans forward, arms on either side of Louis, full lips slipping into place perfectly with Louis' thin lips, like puzzle pieces. (They may come to like doing puzzles together.)

~~~

The sunlight heating my face wakes me up slowly but surely, and I paw sleepily at my face, uncoordinated movements that probably look as ridiculous as it feels to do it. That's when I feel eyes on me. His eyes. I flip over, the couch springs creaking underneath me. Couch springs? I fell asleep on the couch? Oh well. And there he is. Crouched down beside me, pretending that he's waiting to surprise me with a cup of tea instead of just staring at me as I sleep. He hands a cup to me, and I smile.

"Thank you."

He nods his head knowingly and blinks slowly, his head swiveling as he picks up the sounds of the flat: heat turning on and off, the creaks of the floor boards, the rustling of the curtains from an open window. I chuckle fondly, and his eyes suddenly harden as he looks at me, but then they soften, and he laughs along with me.

"I love you." I smile sincerely as I stare at him, letting him know I mean it. And I do. I truly do mean it. And maybe, just maybe, he is in love just as much as I am in love with him. 

"Thanks.." He mumbles shyly, his cheeks flushing pink, and he looks down, his eyelids fluttering shut. 

"I mean it, Harry."

He looks up at me, eyes searching my face for a hint of betrayal, for a sign that shows I am lying. And then he nods, slowly. His eyes becoming a peaceful ocean, shimmering, glossy. Oh my god, is he tearing up? I think I made him cry. I made him cry. Oh god.

"Please don't cry." I lean forward suddenly, hands reaching for his, and he lets me take his hands into mine, and I cover them as best as I can. "Baby, don't cry."

As he blinks slowly the glossy overcoat of his eyes disappears, and his lips slowly turn up at the corners, and a single dimple appears. "You just said you love me.. No one says that. No one feels like that. They," he rubs his thumb with his other hand,"always said I'm a disgrace, a piece of utter shit, that I don't deserve love... That I'm worthless.." His voice cracks, and he swallows, slowly continuing,"and you called me baby... How can I not tear up? You're telling me I'm beautiful..." He buries his face into my neck, a mixture of hiccups and sobs coming from his open mouth.

"Hey, it's okay. Just focus on my voice, on what I'm saying. Not their words. That's what they are, not you. Normal people don't go walking around destroying others."

"You mean that isn't normal? That his treatment of me wasn't right? I.." His voice cracks, and he nuzzles into my neck. "I thought he loved me..."

"God no, Harry. What he has done to you... It isn't right at all. It's goddamn wrong, up and down wrong. You are worth it, in every single way. How about this.. You can sleep with me if you ever feel lonely or want some cuddles, or if you can't silence those voices, or something, okay love?"

"Okay." He nods slowly and blushes, and god does he looks like a perfect little angel when he blushes with those dimples and freckles.

He rubs his eyes, wiping away his tears, and stares up at me. "Alright, let's go back to sleep, sound good?" I mumble softly, my muscles tense as I struggle to keep myself from kissing him.

"Yeah, sounds good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if updates are slower. Multiple panic attacks, some reckless decisions and some included buying a rabbit, and fights at home have taken a toll on me and my time to work on this fic. I also didn't plan it out as much as I should have so I'm outlining and filling in the gaps. I'm sorry darlings.


	4. It's For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kisses/Drowning/Love

Flicking through the television channels, I'm dissatisfied with every possible choice laid out before on the screen that struggles to keep up with my demands. I sigh heavily. Harry turns his head and gazes up at me. Eyes soft and seductive at the same moment - like the ocean waves they pull me in.

"Bored?" He murmurs, leaning up on his elbow, his hair falling down like a parachute around his face. 

I might be diving in too deep.

"Very. I'm very bored, my kitten." I sigh once more, placing the remote on the edge of the couch I scoot closer to Harry, breath hitching inside of my throat.

I might drown.

"What would you like to do?" His eyebrow raises, but what Louis said next was not expected.

I'll drown happy.

"I want to see if you are a happy drunk, I bet you are. Just a gigging mess of cuteness." I chuckle, eyes soft and full of light. He tries to imagine it but he can't. All he sees is Harry's eyes gleaming, laughter ringing through the room, and rosy cheeks. 

Irresistible.

"Erm," He pauses and smiles, "Sure."

I grin and get off of the couch. I nearly skip over to where I keep the champagne. Picking the best, only for Harry, of course.

If it's me I always choose the hardest liquor I have, to forget the memories when they come flooding back. But, today, it is going to be drinking sunshine and savoring Harry's lips, hopefully.

I really hope so. 

I pour two glasses full, shivers creeping up my back and I walk back to Harry's hesitant face, watching as it changes to curiosity and excitement. It's the cutest thing in the entire world. I swear there are fireflies within his eyes. 

"Here you go. Tell me what you think." I hand him the glass. He brings the glass to his lips, his eyelids fluttering shut as he takes a sip. And another. And more.

"It tastes like apples, which is weird.. But the tingling... the bubbles. I like that." He contemplates his answer slowly before he starts to smile wide. He takes a guffaw of it, before his eyes open and he is giggling. 

"Careful, love. Don't want to lose yourself in the bottle.." I murmur softly. It's my way of saying I love you without having the say the actual three words. I brush my thumb along my bottom lip, and his hand bringing the glass back to his lips pauses and he laughs, though his eyes flicker down to my lip, entranced.

He giggles, blushing red. I finish the rest of my glass and set it down on the table. I'm stuck considering grabbing the whole bottle and downing it but also considering the taste of Harry's lips- slightly intoxicated, slurring his words already. Both, both seem good at the moment. Both take the pain and make it dull. Manageable. Bearable. 

He takes a gulp and winces at the sour taste, and I smile soft, and get off of the couch, returning with the bottle. I pour a full glass for myself and fill Harry's glass that's empty and he looks up at me, smiling.

"Thanks."

I nod and sit down, my thighs pressing against his. How funny that the small act of touching sends trembles down my arms into my hands that clutches the glass. His eyelids are heavier than they were before, cheeks a little more flushed, eyes gleaming a bit brighter. 

I down mine in a few gulps and set the glass on the table. Time moves languidly. Eyelids heavy I watch as Harry guffaws down his glass. That's his sixth glass, and my seventh, I think..

I fill his and mine once more, watching him with the slightest hint of a smile. 

I sigh heavily, content, my head dizzy. Is it possible for heads to get dizzy?

Harry leans over, his fingers pressing against my chest, body half turned towards me. He drinks, lips pressed against the glass, and it seems unfair. He kisses the glass and I wish he were kissing me. To taste the alcohol on his lips, and to lick it off lovingly.

"Beautiful boy.." He slurs, nuzzling his head into my shoulder before he plants a slobby kiss onto the bare skin of my neck, glass tilting to the side in his uncoordinated hand.

"No, no, you're the beautiful boy. Trust me, Harry." I murmur softly into his curls, pecking kisses into the locks that press back against my lips. I lean forward a bit and steady his hand holding the glass, he smiles and shakes his head. I lean down and kiss his lips, flicking my tongue between his lips once before I pull away smiling. "Very beautiful."

"Lou.." His voice is indistinct, already caught up in the liquid gold slipping throughout his bloodstream. Nudging closer I kiss at the freckles that ink his cheeks, slowly, softly, listening to his voice that slurs and stutters but still sounds like home. "You're beautiful, my beautiful boy.." He smiles slowly, his eyelids fluttering shut.

I kiss him gently on his wet chapped lips, feeling the cracks the line his fragile skin - but I don't think he can feel how much love I press into his lips.

~~~

I think it's the stench that wakes me up first. Or maybe it's the sound of someone throwing up. I stumble upwards off of the couch, nearly being knocked off balance by the blanket that somehow is tangled around my legs. Fuck. I didn't know drinking would affect me this much. 

"Harry?" My voice hitches in my throat at the smell and it comes out as a timid squeak.

"In," Gagging noises emerge from behind the closed bathroom door, "here." Holding off my relief I open the door, my vision blurring at the sight of Harry's pale, lithe figure kneeling in front of the toilet. He's praying to a porcelain god. 

"I'm ok," He murmurs.

"No, you're not. Come on, Harry, let's get you cleaned up, ok?" I brush back strands of his hair, and wipe his mouth and chin with a wet rag. "Come on pretty boy."

I turn on the water in the bath, watching as it fills up. I pour in honey and milk scented body wash that I bought for him, foaming a golden colour tinted with white. I look over my shoulder to see Harry struggling with the grey shirt that is plastered to his skin from sweat and maybe some vomit. I don't want to think too hard about that. I slip the shirt over his head gingerly and he smiles gratefully. 

"There you go," I smile, "do you want to keep your boxers on?" 

Unknowingly my eyes travel down, and when I look back up he has a scowl on his face, most prominent in his pouting lips. 

He frowns, "Yea, I guess so." 

He timidly grabs my hand and steps into the bath, testing the waters before getting in completely. I kneel beside the bath, watching him as he slowly slips down into the water, cheeks still flushed from throwing up. His black boxers become wet and plasters itself against Harry's bulk. Face submerged, his hair takes flight and whirls around his head as he tilts his head back and forth, not missing a strand. He sits back up, rubbing his eyes vigorously.

I pour shampoo that smells like cherry blossoms into my palm and begin rubbing it into his hair, foaming into his brown locks. He squeezes his eyes shut even though I have one hand over his eyes.

"Sorry," I tuck a soapy curl of hair behind his ear. He mutters under his breath but I don't understand.

"What, Harry?"

"That's good enough. I'm not going out or anything, I don't need to look like a prince."

I huff, "Harry, just lemme, ok?" I pause, fixing a lock that has shifted out of place, "Lemme treat you like a prince.

"Fine." He scrunches his nose, and succumbs to my touch gradually.

~~~

I step out of the bath and I stare at Louis nervously. My boxer clings heavy to me, and I'm all too aware. I rub circles using my right thumb against the soft spot on my other hand- it isn't the only sore spot on me. He's not Jayden.

Not Jayden.

"Lou," Hesitantly I blink, watching as he turns himself towards me hearing my voice, "It's just, erm, could you," my voice cracks, "kiss me?" 

I still remember that drunken kiss that Louis and I shared, and it felt safe.

Safe.

His eyebrows raise, drawing out each word as he says, "Harry, are you sure?" Even with the unsure tone of voice, his eyes light up eagerly. His gaze flickers from my lips to my eyes, testing the waters before diving in. 

I nod my head, and step closer to him. His eyes widen but he steps forward too, til his chest is pressing against mine. My heartbeat quickens. You're safe, safe, safe.

I press my lips against his, and place my palm on the back of his neck, pulling him closer. My lips part as a moan escapes. His lips press smiles against mine as slow, gentle kisses turn to ones of desperation and need. I lick and nibble at his collarbone, and Louis throws his head back moaning softly. Rutting up against his semi-hard I lick into his mouth with experience and he responds by releasing another moan. A mixture of tongue and moist lips leaves us breathless as I pull away. 

Head dizzy, reality drips into a puddle at my feet, and without thinking, without pausing for air, my lips press against his once more.

"Love," He murmurers, "take this slower, yeah?" 

"No." I beg as my hands roam his body, fingertips touching his golden tan skin. "Please."

His hands don't hesitant as they grip my waist tugging me closer. 

I take his bottom lip in-between my teeth and tug gently. A moan escapes his lips. My nails dig into his back, and he grinds up against me once. Twice. Three times before I pin his hips with my strong hands. The sounds of wet fabric and moans are loud in the tiny bathroom. 

I whine softly and press back against him, watching as his eyelids flutter close. I palm myself roughly through my boxers as I kiss him. There are clashes of teeth as we desperately kiss, licking at his lips, and tonguing his mouth.

He would feel so good in my mouth. So big.The thought has me moaning as I palm myself harder, precum dripping off of the tip. 

Everything about this is indecent and obscene, but nothing short of perfect.

"Louis," I gasp softly as I feel heat pooling at the pit of my stomach. Thumbing over the slit, I bite at my lips to hush my whimpers as I buck into my hand.

"Love?" He replies, his lips red and cheeks flushed. He carefully brings his hand down to rub over my cock, and I press up against his touch. Looking into my blown-out eyes he kneels. 

"Is this ok, Harry?" 

I nod and he gingerly peels off the wet boxers, and thumbs over my slit once, and squeezes gently at the base. I have to steady myself against the bathroom sink as his lips close around my flushed dick. He hollows his cheeks and sucks harshly, a moan rolls off of my lips as he takes me deeper into his mouth. His wet hands close around my base, and gradually finds a rhythm as he jerks his hands. 

His eyes close as tears form as he takes me as far as he can into his mouth. The heat and wetness and the moans are obscene. It's nearly offensive when I come quickly into his mouth and he swallows it before standing up and kissing me, licking my own taste into my mouth. Nearly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so the next chapter is the final chapter and it is literally 5 sentences. Just like a little bow on the present that this shitty fanfic is. Nothing that I wanted it to be - too busy and just having a hard enough time staying alive so I apologize. I'm really so sorry..


	5. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Always/Love/Home

"I love you, H" He murmurs, a slight lisp considering the vape dangling out of his mouth, gripped tightly by his teeth. His fingertips trace the shadows flickering on my face from the candle light. I can smell the scent of watermelon clinging to his skin from the vape. It's a much welcomed smell after associating him with the smell of strong cigarettes and loneliness. 

"Love you more, L."


End file.
